


Trauma (A Series of Vent Poetry From A Broken Mind)

by Orions_Neptune_ (PyrotechnicsPhenom6996)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence, Poetry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenia, Separation Anxiety, Triggers, Vent Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27436732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyrotechnicsPhenom6996/pseuds/Orions_Neptune_
Summary: Possibly triggering content, please be careful...This is a series of poems that I've made when I'm in a bad spot...
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)





	1. The Troll

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please be careful, nothing is too graphic but a lot of stuff is heavily mentioned...

The Troll under the bridge has a silver tongue,  
It speaks fallacies everyone listens to,  
But when it speaks the truth they cover their ears in cadence.

They tilt their heads up to gaze at the dark night sky,  
But I know of the truth.

I know when to cover my ears and when to listen.

Their too caught up in the lies to recognize the truth.

The Troll  
Butch '20


	2. The Dog With No Teeth

The Dog With No Teeth cowers when his Owner scolds him.

The Dog With No Teeth can't refuse to eat out of a friendly palm.

The Dog With No Teeth can't fight back when his Owner whips him with his own leash.

The Dog With No Teeth can't bite the hand that hits Him.

The Dog With No Teeth can't run, otherwise, he'll get choked.

One day, The Dog With No Teeth escaped underneath the fence.

The Dog With No Teeth found sanctuary and regrew his Teeth.

Soon, The Dog With No Teeth found his feet and RAN.

The Dog With Teeth Is Me

The Dog With No Teeth  
Butch '20


	3. Psychosis

There's a cold and dark corner of my room,  
it speaks to me at the darkest hours just before dawn,  
"I'm coming for you."

As I'm lying on my bed,   
hugging my knees, I can't help thinking it will ease,   
I just need some southern comfort breeze.

The corner keeps swaying in and out of focus,  
I can't help but think that this is egregious,   
All I can do is lay there and cry, as the corner shows my weakness.

As the corner closes in, taking me in its humid arms  
My soul starts to burn and so does my skin,   
My bones shall lie there turning to dust,  
my room is surrounded by nothing but trust.

Psychosis  
Butch '20


	4. The Savior

The Eyes that looked through my window flicker with dark intent.  
The heavy gaze burning my flesh with every swipe of its glance,  
Searching my being for my every wrong-doing. My sin.

The sound of the church bells howl their holy song,   
I panic as I start to hear the devilish hounds,  
Yelling their melancholy answers to my lifelong question,  
I cry out a blood-curdling scream to signal my apologies.

The Eyes stare for only a moments notice before closing their hateful amber gaze,  
The Hounds claw and bash at the wooden barrier, they moan out for their desired soul.

Mine.

I cower in fear of being mauled by the hands who were purposed for careful caresses.

Suddenly they cease their calls, The Elohim utter sweet nothings in their gracious voices.  
I no longer fear The Eyes nor The Hounds, I reach out and embrace their ghostly presence.  
Enveloping myself in the arms of The Savior. 

Butch '20


	5. The Drill

The Drill, digging into my skull like roots surging through the ground,  
Trying to find its place deep in the wavy membrane.

The Radiation.

Filling my brain, blooming behind my amber orbs like a budding flower in the spring.  
The Radiation storm clouds my vision, blinding me underneath the gasmask I wear for my own worst enemy.  
I spit out the "Medication" before tossing the bottle in the trash, 

No more.

I walk through the sterile hallway, stopping at the gates that hold me there.  
I push through the gates, walking away from the pain my head holds dear.

No more.

Butch '20


	6. The Clocks Ticking Hands

The metallic sound of the clock ticking away,  
Slowly hammering into my brain,  
Like razors knicking the cerebrum with every tilt of my head.

I shook my head with such a magnificent velocity,  
My head fell off my shoulders with a 'pop!'  
Disintegrating in the sink as the water enveloped it,  
Like blueberry cotton candy.

That's all I was, cotton candy,  
My body melting away with each fleck of blood that stained the cotton.  
My cotton forming around the fist that pummels it,  
you could always add more with reassurance.  
Like a good candy boy, I built back up only to be melted away with tears.

Tick tock, tick tock  
Butch '20


	7. Never Again

The beer spattered across the pale wall of the dining room,  
Echoing screams of a drunken maniac sounded off in the boy's ears,  
The shards of glass littered the freezing tile of the kitchen floor,  
Like stars strewn across the darkening sky.

Loud crying that originated from a little boy,  
The sound that made Angels cry reverberated throughout the mostly empty house,  
The boy gazed at his supposed guardian warp into a savage beast. 

The seemingly Angel-like siren lets out a shrill scream,  
The beast scoffs before cooing, "What? Did I frighten you?"  
The thick vocal cords warping into a perverted version of a caregiver.

The boy couldn't think, his fear addled mind distorting his vision  
"Submit." 

The broken memory shakes the Man to his core.

"Never Again."

Butch '20


End file.
